In remembering the story, all that could be pictured was negative space illuminated. A tiny violin on a summer night in a forest of grass. A pile of dirty… Or maybe a lantern?
They dug a hole. Then they poured cement. After the cement they put the wood. After the wood, the pipes. After the pipes the wood. Nothing was clean and there was nothing to see through. I blinked and tried to remember fresh air but it was hard to do. I remembered that humans are made of solid parts and no air passes through unless it’s also in a solid liquid form.
When I blinked again all the color was gone and all the dirt too. Some big wave of purity washed over.
How much, for example, of the ocean can one unravel by what it casts upon the shore? Over lifetimes perhaps a great deal, perhaps nothing. If life is more successfully viewed through a single window, we are equipped to do so, with “success” as individual as our senses.
55 Gansevoort is pleased to announce the opening of “Insect Voices”, a solo exhibition of new sculpture by Ben Bloomstein.
The exhibitions at 55 Gansevoort are entirely visible, at all hours, by approaching the windowed doors.